


Prisoner's Dilemma

by thisgirlnani



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, white collar au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisgirlnani/pseuds/thisgirlnani
Summary: "What's this for?"Jon snapped on the ankle monitor with an air of finality, "It tracks your movement, and pings me if you step outside your 2 mile radius.""Two miles, how generous, Agent Snow." She groused.He smiled smugly, "Well, if you're so unhappy, jail is just an hour drive back. Maybe you'd be happier with the 6 by 8 cell instead?"Special Agent Jon Snow has been on the hunt for the notorious thief Mockingbird for 2 months and counting, now. At a dead end, with no leads in sight, he turns to a last resort: Sansa Stark. Currently serving jailtime, Sansa Stark is a known accomplice of the Mockingbird, and she agrees to turnover what information she has in exchange for a piece of freedom.





	Prisoner's Dilemma

“Let’s run through what happened, again.”

The only daughter of the famed, ambitious Lannister family, leaned back with an angry huff. It wasn’t as though Jon was savvy with all the big names of King’s Landing, but even a fool had heard one story or another about Cersei Lannister. Her marriage to millionaire Robert Baratheon was well-gossiped about in the tabloids, particularly stories of his drunkenness and infidelity. But, Jon had never actively listened to them, nor did he care much for the rumors of King’s Landing elite. After all, he lived and breathed his job. The only thing he could concern himself were the facts and the logic of whatever case had been assigned to him.

Jon cleared his throat, “Please, Ms. Lannister. So we can be sure that the FBI is on the same page with you.” Now that he was seeing her in-person, instead of the magazines he often saw while standing in line for his groceries, there was a jarring contrast. She was still beautiful, to be sure, but the sharp angles of her face, and the way her blue eyes flashed bestowed a dangerous aura. Jon fought to keep his polite smile from slipping off his face.

“I returned home this afternoon, after visiting my brother Jaimie. There wasn’t anybody in the house. Our nanny, left to go pick up the children, Tommen, and Myrcella from school. Joffrey’s my eldest. He’s off at college. And Robert, he’s been gone for weeks now on a business trip.” She spat out the last sentence like it was poison on her lips. “I heard a noise in the living room, so I knew something was wrong. Nobody should have been home.”

“And then?” Jon prompted.

“I scared the bastard off. I shouted out, that I had a gun” Cersei replied simply, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Is that true?” Jon didn’t doubt that not only did this woman own a gun, she would also know how to fire it, _and_ fire it accurately. He asked anyways though.

“Of course it is. I didn’t have it on me at the time, but it was nearby. Legally registered under my husband’s name, if you were wondering.” She sneered.

“Then he fled?”

“Yes. There’s quite a few exits throughout the house, but he escaped through the kitchen’s back door, the lock was broken and the wood around it is all damaged.”

“That’s when you entered the living room. What did you see first?” Jon questioned.

Cersei, sighed, exasperated. “I saw that the painting was gone. There was a stupid pin, there instead. ‘The Death of Actaeon’ was my husband’s favorite. He displayed it as though it was his first love.” Her face screwed up in disgust. “No doubt he’ll have me to blame for it.”

“And the pin?”  
  
 “It was jammed into the wall, it was shaped like a bird, or something.”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“ _No_.” Cersei snapped. “Is there a point to this, Agent Snow?” She clasped her wine glass, and took a long sip. “I don’t even understand why you’re here, in the first place. Since when did the FBI handle house break-ins?”

“Normally, the local police _would_ be called.” Jon allowed, settling back. “However, we believe this crime was perpetrated by someone the FBI White Collar division has been after for a very long time.”

“What makes you think it’s the same person?”

Jon picked up the one evidence bag that held the answer. “This pin.” He answered. “It’s our thief’s calling card.” Cersei squinted, trying to get a better look at it. “It’s a mockingbird.”

He handed off the bag to one of the assistant techs. “He goes by that alias ‘Mockingbird’, and he’s quite the slippery fellow. We estimate he’s amassed almost a dozen aliases running jobs left and right, and a wide variety of them too. Diamonds, bonds, forgeries, paintings, it’s like he’s rolling a set of dice to determine what next to do. Only way we know it’s been him, is his nice little silver gifts.”

“ _Hm_ ,” Cersei frowned, thoughtfully. “Well, I do hope there’s more than one of you agents working on this case. It’s atrocious he’s been allowed to run around hurting innocents.”

Jon’s façade cracked, the smile slipping of his face. “I’m just the lead Agent, ma’am. There’s a whole department, working, let me assure you of that. We haven’t just been twiddling our thumbs.”

“Well, good.” She sniffed. “Are we done with the interrogation, here? Remember _I’m_ the victim, here, Agent.”

“Yes,” Jon checked his watch, tiredly. _5:31_. Standing up, he rummaged around his suit pocket, before withdrawing his card. “We’ll be in touch shortly. Please give me a call if anything else happens, or if you have more information for us.”

 “Of course.” She took the card, red fingertips tapping against the stock material. “Do you need to be seen out or-“

Jon shot her an acrid look, “I can see myself out, thanks.” 

* * *

 

On the drive back to the office, Jon fought the urge to shout out his frustrations. 6 damn months and still nothing, on the damn Mockingbird. A fucking apt name, because, that’s how he felt every time, he was called to a crime scene and saw that silver bird staring back at him. _Mockery._

The asshole, whoever he was, was having a good laugh at the FBI’s expense. A classic narcissist, for sure, he liked having credit for his crimes, but, he was also deftly smart and clever, managing to evade them, every step of the way.

Jon remembered the pride he’d felt when Mormont had assigned him Lead Agent on the case 2 months ago. The last agent had dropped the case, burnt out and discouraged. But, Jon had taken on the case with great fervor, he’d been the youngest agent to be assigned ‘lead’ _anything,_ and wanted to desperately prove Mormont he hadn’t made a mistake in choosing Jon.

2 months later, and Jon was starting to understand why the last agent had quit. He’d spent sleepless nights at the office, trying to crack every last bit of evidence. Even Ygritte had given up on him, but Jon couldn’t fault her there. His obsession with the case had left little room in his life for any kind of relationship.

Jon exhaled, tightly. He eyed the glove compartment, knowing the pack of cigarettes, he’d stashed away, were only at arm’s length. He’d tried to kick the habit to the curb, but the stress of the job, guaranteed that he’d finish at least one pack by the end of the month.

 _After._ He promised himself. Mormont had sent him a text, wanting him to be at the office. No doubt wanting an update on the case, and Jon would only have a bitter millionaire’s wife’s complaints to give.

Jon parked his car in the garage and headed towards the elevator. The doors slid open, and he was pleasantly surprised to see Sam Tarly.

“Oi!” Jon stepped in, clasping the other man in a tight hug. “Haven’t seen you in a long while. You rarely leave that dark basement of hacking.” He grinned, moving to the side to press the elevator button.

“ _Hardy har har_.” Sam shot Jon a sour look, but it quickly smoothed into a bright smile. Sam had initially only worked for IT  support in the building, but he’d been recruited by the Cyber Crime division, when they’d gotten word of just how good he was. They’d met when Sam assisted on a case that Jon had worked on. “How you’ve been?”

“Not too good.” Jon exhaled, speaking honestly.

Sam’s face darkened. “Oh, you and Ygritte?”

“She broke up with me, about a month ago.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam mumbled. “It’s because of the case, isn’t it?”  
  
Jon grimaced, “Pretty much. It’s put my whole personal life in the shitter. And my work life. The leads are far and few between.”

Sam was silent for a few moments. “Well, I’m here, for you. If you need to grab a drink after work, or you need something hacked into. We do have phones down in the basement. So just shoot a text, when you need.” He smiled, lightly. “Gilly’s always nagging me to bring you over for dinner.”

The elevator let out a _ding,_ signaling that it had reached Jon’s floor. “Ah,” Jon patted Sam’s shoulder stepping out of the elevator, “Look, tell Gilly I said ‘hi’. And let her know that when she makes her famous steak and potatoes, I’ll be the first one at the door.” Jon grinned

Sam’s round face lit up. “Of course. Good luck Jon. Also get some sleep, you look like shit.”

Jon snorted, making sure Sam saw his outstretched middle finger, before the elevator doors slid shut. He headed straight towards Mormont’s office. Alys, Mormont’s secretary, greeted him warmly.

“Look who it is,” She smiled, brightly. “He’s already expecting you, you can go right in.”

“Thanks, Alys.” He murmured, pushing the door open, wary and tired.

Mormont’s office inspired awe. The entire back wall was glass, overlooking the bustling city of King’s Landing. Jon had lived in King’s Landing for a good half of his life, but he never tired of the view, that Mormont’s office offered.

“Jon. Sit.” Mormont greeted, shortly. He had been rifling through some folders, but stopped, now that he saw Jon.

Jeor Mormont, head of the White Collar Division, for nearly 30 years now, was grey and wizened, but he hadn’t lost an ounce of his sharp intelligence. He presided over the division with a forceful hand, but he was fair and respected.

“How did it go with Cersei Lannister? She’s a spiteful woman, as I’m sure you found out.”

Jon only nodded. “I didn’t find out anything new. The crime scene is the same as all the last ones. Same pin behind, and none of the techs found any useful fingerprints on it. And, as always, the security footage is all warped and unusable.” He shook his head in disgust.

Mormont took in the information, thoughtfully, fingers thrumming against his desk. It was a while, before he spoke. “6 months, Jon. This asshole is making us look like fools.”

Jon knew that the words were not directed as an insult towards him, but it still burned just the same. He was the one in charge of the case, after all, it was his responsibility. “Sir with all due respect,” Jon tempered his frustration. “We’ve been running ragged all over King’s Landing for the Mockingbird, with almost no leads-“

“Actually, there’s been a recent development.” Mormont nodded, settling in his chair with a sigh. “A lead of sorts.”

  
Jon blinked. “How come I’m just hearing about this? Sir, I-” he shifted uncomfortably. “I’m trying my best here. There isn’t an issue with my leadership on this case, is there?”

“If I had an issue with it, boy, you’d damned well know it. Believe me. It’s the mayor breathing down my neck, trying to get answers and a suspect, quick.” Mormont scowled, his grey brows furrowed. “You’re still leading the case, I’ve just had to have more hands on deck. I had a couple boys go down to Detention Center down in Brooklyn, while you dealt with Cersei Lannister.

“One of his associates is talking?” Jon leaned forward, eagerly, when Mormont inclined his head. “How’d we manage that?” Any associate that’d been linked with Mockingbird had already gone through rigorous interrogation by the force, but somehow they’d gotten nothing, lips sealed tightly by either fear, loyalty, or both.

“Well the higher-ups are allowing us to offer certain _incentives_. At first no one was taking it, but we got one who’s open to talking.” The silver-haired man slid over a manila folder, nodding for Jon to open it.

One flip of the folder, revealed a glossy image of a stunning red-head with bright blue eyes focused curiously in the direction of the camera. It looked straight off a tabloid magazine instead of surveillance footage.

“Sansa Stark. 24 years old, was arrested for art forgery and intent to defraud. She was sentenced to 6 years, and served a third of it so far. She’s worked under the Mockingbird, no doubt about that. We know this based on anonymous emails, and traced calls. However, during her trial, she denied any involvement.”

“Until now,” Jon surmised. He thumbed through her file. More surveillance photos, logs of phone calls and e-mails, and copies of the forged art that the division had re-possessed, and submitted as evidence to the court.  “What does she get out of this?”

Mormont’s shoulders drew up, tensely. “That we don’t know quite yet. Miss Stark was very clear, that she wanted to speak to the lead Agent.” Jon’s eyes widened in surprise. “We’ve arranged for you to meet with her at the Detention Center tomorrow morning. You’ll talk terms and conditions, then.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And Jon?” Mormont drawled, “Don’t let your dick do the talking for you.”

A hot flush crawled up Jon’s neck. “Sir! I wasn’t going to- I mean I haven’t ever-I _wouldn’t_.”

The older agent waved his concern away with a bemused look. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

**Author's Note:**

> sooo no Sansa in this chapter, but i promise you, she'll be in the next one!!!! :)


End file.
